It All Started With a Pair of Earmuffs
by keeptheotherone
Summary: A Hannah/Dean romance told in a series of snapshots starting in second year. Runner-up in the 2nd Annual "Can You Write a Romance?" Competition by Dear. Dark. Destiny.


It all started with a pair of earmuffs.

It was the first Herbology lesson of second year, and Professor Sprout had just assigned them to repot Mandrakes. Like every other boy in the class, Dean Thomas was scrambling for the most masculine earmuffs he could find when his hand closed over a small, soft arm. Letting go at once (because obviously that arm belonged to a _girl_), he looked up to apologize and found himself staring at a pink-cheeked girl with blond pigtails. She smiled her forgiveness, even though he hadn't actually said sorry, and placed a fluffy pink pair over her ears.

Dean thought she looked adorable.

()()()()

"Hi, Hannah." Dean was waiting his turn at the snack trolley when he noticed the blonde plaits in front of him.

She turned around, and bright cerulean eyes smiled into his dark ones. "Oh, hello, Dean. Have a good holiday?"

"Always."

Hannah's button nose crinkled. "Wish I did. We were supposed to go to the coast, but then Sirius Black escaped and—"

"What'll you have, dearie?"

She turned back to the witch behind the trolley. "Six Chocolate Frogs, four bottles of pumpkin juice, and a box of Every Flavor Beans, please." She took her items and her change and waited as Dean bought juice and Pumpkin Pasties.

"Are you sitting with Seamus?" Hannah eyed the double bottles in his hand.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you two come to our compartment? We're playing Gobstones, it's more fun with extra players."

"All right. See you in a minute."

"Three cars that way." Hands full, she jerked her head to the left and smiled.

Hannah had a beautiful smile.

()()()()

Hogsmeade was brilliant. Just getting off the grounds was brilliant, really, even if they did have to pass those ruddy Dementors. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had already been to Zonko's and Honeydukes and had finally snagged a booth in the Three Broomsticks, complete with mugs of foaming butterbeer. They had originally planned to make it a complete Gryffindor wizards celebration, but Harry hadn't gotten his permission form signed. Dean had invited Ron to come with them this morning, but his red-eared friend had muttered to his trainers that he was going with Hermione.

Seamus elbowed him in the ribs.

"There they are."

All three boys looked out the window and sniggered. Ron and Hermione were across the street, heads close together as Ron pointed out something in the display of Dervish and Banges.

A group of giggling girls poured inside the pub with a draft of cold air. Hannah was among them, and for some reason, Dean wished he'd bought extra Chocolate Frogs.

()()()()

Dean heaved his overflowing school bag onto the empty end of a library table and headed for the Potions section. Everyone was excited about the start of the Triwizard Tournament next week, but Snape's obsession with antidotes had not abated. He returned a few minutes later with an armful of texts and was greeted by the table's other occupant.

"Hello, Dean. Working on Snape's essay?"

"Er, yeah." The speaker was a pretty, fresh-faced girl with long, wavy blond hair. She looked vaguely familiar, and then Dean noticed the Hufflepuff tie. "Hannah?"

"Forgot me already, huh?" But she was smiling, as sanguine as ever.

"Well, I—er—um, you look nice." He'd never seen her with her hair loose, and it changed her entire appearance.

Her pink cheeks grew pinker. "Thanks."

He sat down. "How about you, have you started on the aconite essay yet?"

Hannah shook her head, hair dancing around her shoulders. "This is for Muggle Studies. 'Non-Magical Transportation and Its Effects on the Recreational Habits of Muggles.' I hardly know where to start."

"I'm Muggle-born, maybe I can help."

She flashed her beautiful smile, and Dean noticed that had also changed. Her lips were a glossy berry color, and he wondered if they would taste like berries, too.

()()()()

"Periwinkle," Dean said.

He and Hannah were sitting by the lake. It was really too cold to be outside, but the atmosphere inside the castle was positively frigid. Dean was drawing; Hannah was organizing her new Chocolate Frog cards from last week's Hogsmeade trip.

She paused to pass him the requested pencil from the case spread out on her other side. (As soon as she found out what he was doing, Hannah had wanted to help. He had explained he was perfectly capable of picking up his own pencils, but she insisted. Dean supposed it was the Hufflepuff in her.) As her hand came into his line of sight, he noticed the bandage on top of it.

"Hannah? What happened to your hand?"

She jerked away, cradling it protectively in her lap. Dean tried to look especially trustworthy.

"Umbridge happened," she spat, and her bitter tone actually made him jump. "She tried to put my first-year girls in detention for violating that stupid decree. When I pointed out that walking to class together could hardly be considered a school club, she decided I could join them."

"Can't shake that Hufflepuff loyalty, eh?"

"It's barbaric. She's nothing but a round, fat, pink coward who's afraid of a dissenting opinion." Hannah slammed the next three cards onto their respective piles.

"At least we're doing something now." Dean used the periwinkle pencil to shade in the autumn sky.

Hannah smiled. "Yeah, that feels pretty good." She looked around carefully. "Wednesday's meeting was great, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. Sanguine, please."

"What?"

"It's a blood-red color."

Hannah found the correct pencil and passed it over. "I thought _sanguine_ meant _cheerful._"

"That, too." Dean began outlining the changing trees around them. "I was a little surprised to see you at the Hog's Head."

"Why, because I'm not a Gryffindor?" She flipped her loose hair behind her back. "Harry's always been nice to me, and to Ernie. Daring isn't the only motive for bravery, you know."

So he was learning. The DA had its share of Ravenclaws, too. "Ochre. No, saffron."

Hannah rolled her eyes and searched amongst the dozens of pencils for the correct shade. This time, as she released it, she brushed her fingers along the length of his. Dean reached up with his other hand and took hers. She blushed and smiled, and he changed his mind.

It wasn't cold out here at all.

()()()()

"You're looking awfully sanguine today." Dean joined Hannah at her and Ernie's table, giving the Fanged Geranium they were feeding a wide berth.

Her smile spread from ear to ear. Ever since that afternoon by the lake, it had become somewhat of a game between them to use color words outside their artistic context. "I'm tickled pink—fuchsia even. Look!" She rummaged in her bag, then shoved a scroll of parchment under his nose.

"An Outstanding in Muggle Studies! Hannah, that's brilliant!"

"Thanks," she said happily, piling more dragon dung around the base of the geranium.

Ernie was still within earshot, pruning dead leaves from across the table, so Dean sidled a little closer and lowered his voice. "Did you, er, did you get the message about the meeting tonight?"

She nodded.

"Well, um, it's at seven, and I was wondering—I thought maybe—I mean, if you want—"

Hannah was watching him expectantly, and Dean picked up a trowel, just for something to do with his hands.

"Maybe we could meet after dinner and go up together?"

She beamed at him and put her hand over his; he'd been tapping the trowel against the edge of the table.

"I'd like that a lot, Dean. Six-thirty, in the Entrance Hall?"

"Peachy."

Hannah laughed.

()()()()

Dean and Hannah were walking back from the library; he was carrying her books, and she was holding his hand.

"We only have six months before O.W.L.s and I'm nowhere near ready. I've brought up my Muggle Studies marks, but there's still Transfiguration and Astronomy and—"

"Hannah! We just spent the last three hours revising, and it's nearly Christmas. Let's talk about something else. What are your plans for the holiday?"

She nattered on about baking and decorating with her mum, and they were descending the marble staircase when she said, "Dean, what are you doing here?"

He thought it was rather obvious. "I'm walking you back to your Common Room."

Her mouth opened and closed twice. "I—but—it's completely out of your way."

"So?" Dean's confidence faltered at the look on her face. "Unless you don't want me to?"

Hannah shook her head and blushed. "No, it's not that, it's just . . . ."

He pulled his hand out of hers. "You don't want your friends to see you with me?"

"No! I don't want to be interrupted." She reached for his hand again and pulled him down the stairs. "Come on, this way."

She lead him around the corner and down the smaller staircase towards the Hufflepuff quarters. They walked down a long corridor lined with paintings until she stopped in front of one of an uppity-looking witch in yellow and black robes.

"Move over," Hannah ordered.

The witch glared, scolding her even as she swung forward in her frame. "Children! Ruder and ruder every year, no respect for their elders, sassy and—"

Her voice died as Hannah closed the portrait. Dean looked around. They were standing in a narrow room with rows of small wooden cubicles lining every wall.

"The old wine cellar. From ages ago, when the water wasn't safe and everyone drank weak wine."

Dean swallowed. This was pretty obvious, too. He'd spent more than a few nights imagining what he would do if he could get her alone, but it was a lot harder in reality.

Then Hannah put her hands on his shoulders and went on tiptoe, and Dean dropped their books.

She did taste like berries; strawberries, to be precise.

* * *

a/n: This was written for the second annual Can You Write a Romance? Competition and my pairing was Hannah Abbott and Dean Thomas, obviously. I also had to use the word _sanguine_ three times. Thanks to Dear. Dark. Destiny for hosting!


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